Matters of Taste

Rosita and Me --- Cheese-Making in Costa Rica

Most people who visit Costa Rica head for the water… the surfing, beachcombing, kayaking and deep-sea fishing are first-rate. But this week I headed for the hills.

My husband and I come to Costa Rica almost every year to spend time with relatives in their home on the beach between Quepos and the Manuel Antonio National Park. Typically we do nothing, or next to nothing. A little kayaking, walks on the beach, a lot of reading, and naps galore.

But on Thursday we found ourselves in the Chirripo Valley (pictured here), the start of the Chirripo National Park, a remote, end-of-the-road kind of place with vertical walls of dense vegetation, a  boulder-strewn, rushing river, and a rolling valley floor dotted with hardscrabble farms. It was there I met and fell in love with Rosita.

We were on a tour of  Quesos Canaan (Canaan Cheese Co.), arranged by Carlos Rojas and Randy Langendorfer, proprietors of Monte Azul, the eco-lodge where we spent the night. (More about this magical getaway in my next post.)

Randy and my sister-in-law translated as owner/cheesemaker Wilberth Mata showed us around the sustainable farm (he uses cow manure to make the methane gas that fuels the operation), and led us, step by precise step, through the cheese-making process.

And, since that process starts with milk, duh, we were soon introduced to Rosita, an 18-year-old cow  with a tangle of protruding ribs but a gentle personality and “protected” status because of her long years of service.

I wish I had captured the facial expressions of our city-slicker group as Wilberth demonstrated the fine art of milking, then told us each to take a turn. Later, when he squirted Rosita’s milk directly into a mug for us to drink, the “what the…what the..?" faces returned. But, the warm, rich and super-frothy milk was delicious and cried out for a shot of espresso.

Back in the tiny, spotless cheese-making room, we inoculated milk with lacto-bacillus and rennet, listened to Wilberth’s story of how he learned to make cheese 10 years ago from a visiting Swiss gent, who subsequently invited him to spend a few weeks  in Switzerland (it was his first plane ride and only time ever out of Costa Rica); and eventually “cut the cheese, “ using a special rake-like tool to cut through the curds which had separated from the whey.  (Read more about the family’s fascinating story in a Tico Times article.)

We added salt, stirred and stirred, heated the mixture to exactly 38 degrees C., stirred some more, then watched the slim but remarkably strong Wilberth lift the 125-pound kettle with the ease he’d hoist a frisky toddler, and pour off the opaque whey.  (The handsome farmer, somewhere in his early 40s, is an accomplished runner, with multiple shelves of trophies for his performance in the annual International Chirripo Marathon, a gnarly mountain foot race that covers 8,000 vertical feet before reaching the top of Mt. Chirripo, Costa Rica’s highest peak. Wilburth is a perennial winner, running it, round-trip, in just over three hours.)

Wilberth Mata operates Quesos Canaan with his wife and partner Kattia Hernandez and additional help from their three kids. The Tipo Suizo cheese, which is dense and dotted with tiny “holes,” has a mild but distinctive buttery, nutty flavor (as opposed to most Costa Rican cheeses which, in my opinion, have no flavor at all). It’s sold in some restaurants and stores in Manuel Antonio and San Jose, but most of it doesn’t leave the insulated Chirripo Valley. The Mata Hernandez clan makes just nine pounds of cheese a day, every day of the year. Do the math.

We were lucky enough to be the creators of the nine pounds (four hefty wheels) created on Friday, and now perched on a shelf in the Quesos Canaan aging room. Some day, after the minimum three-month aging period, a lucky cheese-lover will cut into and enjoy the cheese made, with love, by Rosita and me.

A Website for Quesos Canaan is under construction. You can email the Mata Hernandez family at: quesoscanaan@hotmail.com. Visitors are welcome; the formal tour-and-cheese-making gig lasts three to four hours and costs about $40 a person.

Savoring the Seabourn Spirit......Again

The sad, and unbelievable, tale of the cruise ship Costa Concordia just won't go away.  More than a dozen passengers are still unaccounted for. The captain, a stereotypical “how-cool-am-I?" dude if ever there was one, keeps popping up on the evening news. And the expression “Get back on the boat, dammit,” barked by an Italian coast guard officer at the dithering captain, is destined to live on in infamy. (Loosely translated, it will forever mean “Quit whining and do your job, jackass.” )

Analysts claim the incident could impact the cruise industry's ability to attract passengers for 2012 cruises, saying that, in particular, first-time cruisers are re-thinking their plans.

But the whole kerfuffle has had the opposite effect on me, bringing back memories of the amazing  Seabourn Spirit cruise I took two years ago, and inspiring me to sign up for another.

For decades I had avoided cruises. I get seasick. I don’t like crowds. I’m terrified in water that’s over my head. But, we hadn’t even cleared the waters of Venice and I was already a convert.

For starters, there was the captain….Magnus Bengtsson, a huge Scandinavian bear of a man, handsome, erect, an imposing presence, friendly but with a no-nonsense reserve. This guy inspired confidence, big time. No one is ever going to bark “Get back on the boat, dammit” to Captain Bengtsson.

The accommodations were wonderful, about 100 spacious suites (meaning no more than about 200 people on a cruise) with sitting areas, huge windows, well-stocked bars and fresh fruit and flowers. (Other Seabourn ships are larger; some offer terraces off the rooms.)

The itinerary was great, too. Hvar, Croatia; Puglia, Taormina, Lipari Island, Sorrento and Rome, Italy. 

And the food?  Awesome. Every night I was blown away by the elegance of the cooking, the fresh, bold flavors, the stylish presentations. I marveled that Chef Bjoern Wassmuth could pull this off in the middle of the Mediterranean when most restaurant chefs can’t get it together on land, with dozens of purveyors at their beck and call.  

Among the highlights of our dinners: Chilled Corn & Lemongrass Soup (flecked with lobster salad and spicy shrimp oil) that tasted as if the corn had been snatched from the field moments before; grilled filet mignon with fresh chanterelles and a parmesan flan that practically floated off the plate; Crispy Corn Crusted Prawn with fennel slaw and romesco sauce; Jumbo Scallops on Potato Shallot Cake, with granny smith apple slivers, pistachios and a lemony vinaigrette; meringues, tarts and sublime homemade ice creams like those pictured here.

Among my favorite desserts were the "parade” of crème brulees – basil, white chocolate pistachio, and orange blossom; and a Milk Chocolate Peanut Butter Bombe with Toasted Marsmallow and Honey Caramel Sauce that is reason enough to book another Seabourn cruise.

In addition to the ship’s dining room, the Spirit features the outdoor Veranda Café where top-notch breakfasts are served each morning and a “theme” restaurant is staged each night as an alternative to

the main dining room; and a top-deck Sky Grill for burgers and other grilled specialties. Seabourn prices, which the Website today says start at about $2,000 per person, are all-inclusive. That means all food and beverages, 24/7, and all activities, save for select shore excursions. One afternoon while we were anchored in the Gulf of Squillace,  Chef Bjoern offered a cooking class for guests. Aided by a wise-cracking crew member, the affable German-born chef  whipped up al dente porcini risotto, flecked with bits of dried truffles that had been plumped in Port wine; and an ethereal lemon mousse made with yogurt, orange zest and Grand Marnier.

Here’s the recipe for the mousse,  adapted slightly (food editors simply can’t leave anything alone) and converted from Chef Bjoern’s metric measurements.

SEABOURN SPIRIT YOGURT LEMON MOUSSE with ALMOND BRITTLE & CRUSHED RASPBERRIES

2 cups heavy cream

2 cups whole milk

3 egg yolks

2/3  cup sugar

1 sheet gelatin, softened

1 teaspoon orange zest (the grated, colored part of an orange)

2 tablespoons Grand Marnier

1 ½ cups plain yogurt

Almond brittle, for garnish

Crushed fresh raspberries, for garnish

In a heavy saucepan, heat the cream and milk together slowly, being careful it does not come to a boil. In a bowl, beat the egg yolks and sugar with an electric mixer until pale  and fluffy. Pour 1/3 of the hot cream mixture into the egg mixture and whisk constantly until incorporated. Pour the egg mixture into the remaining cream/milk in the pan and stir over very low heat until it starts to thicken. Add orange zest and Grand Marnier, stirring constantly until the mixture coats the back of a spoon.

Remove from heat.  Add the softened gelatin to the hot mixture and stir until completely blended.

Strain mixture through a fine sieve, then cool mixture on a bowl of ice cubes and water. Add the yogurt and whisk until completely blended. Refrigerate until thoroughly chilled. Serve in tall parfait glasses or form into “egg” shapes and set on dessert plates. Garnish with crushed almond brittle and crushed raspberries.

Serves 4-6.

 

 

Cook-For-A-Day at the C.I.A.

The Culinary Institute of America, the prestigious non-profit culinary academy that opened in Hyde Park, New York in 1946, is renowned for turning out such superstar chefs as Todd English, Charlie Palmer, Grant Achatz, Rocco DiSpirito and Anthony Bourdain.

So it was with a sense of wonder and “what-the-heck-are-we-doing-here?” bemusement that my mother, my sister and I arrived at the Napa Valley branch on a recent sunny Saturday for a hands-on “Tastes of the Napa Valley” cooking class. (The school now has campuses in St. Helena, CA, San Antonio, TX and Singapore in addition to the Hyde Park property.)

We arrived mid-morning and joined seven other adventurers in one of the CIA’s massive professional kitchens. After listening to chef Sandy Dominguez explain the drill–- everyone works with a partner, wears a toque, grabs hot pan handles with a dishtowel, and cleans up as he goes -- we set to work. 

The personable Chef Sandy circulated among all the students, offering encouragement and sharing tips. (She showed how to easily remove the seeds from a messy pomegranate by submergin them in water and scooping seeds out with fingertips; and demonstrated a cool way of cleaning a hot grill with an old facecloth rolled and tied with string and dipped in vegetable oil.)  But, for the most part (and much to my amazement) she turned us loose with a stack of ambitious recipes, including Quinoa Croquettes; Mussels Steamed in White Wine with Romesco Sauce and Grilled Bread; Curried Sweet Potato Skewers with Curried Onion Dipping Sauce; and Lavender Shortbread. And she reiterated our goal: All dishes on the buffet table in 1 ½ hours.

And again to my amazement, the “students” performed impressively. No one in the group --- a  mother-son combo, a mother-daughter combo, a newly married couple, a mother of a CIA professional student, and my mother, sister and me --- had any training to speak of. I was probably the most proficient cook in the bunch, having covered cooking classes and restaurants for the San Diego Union-Tribune for 25 years. But even I felt challenged by the thought of whipping up Grilled Lamp Loin with Pomegranate Syrah Sauce (with toasted and ground coriander seeds, and bruised mint!) and Jeweled Couscous in a strange kitchen in under 2 hours. And my poor sister, Marcia, pictured right with chef Sandy Dominquez, had to create Olive Oil Crackers from scratch, and had her first run-in with a massive, man-eating Robot-Coupe in the process.

But, sure enough, the buffet table (pictured below) was laden and lovely at the appointed hour; the food was fabulous; and the cooks-for-a-day were giddy with the excitement of their accomplishments. 

Though cooking and learning at the C.I.A is a very serious business, the school does offer occasional classes for what they call “enthusiasts,” that being, euphemistically, someone with more enthusiasm than talent or commitment.

There are all-day classes, five-day “Boot Camp” adventures, two-day specialties such as BBQ Boot Camp, two-hour demonstration classes, and two-hour hands-on “food explorations” that end with a buffet of all the dishes cooked. I think it’s an ideal way to round-out a visit to California’s wine country; it’s also a great holiday gift idea.

Here are a couple recipes from our “Tastes of the Napa Valley” class to whet your appetite for a hand-on adventure of your own.

 JEWELED COUSCOUS

Serves 8

1 cup dried couscous

1 ½ cups water

½ cup fresh orange juice

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 tablespoon orange zest

2 teaspoons kosher salt

¼ cup black currants

1 red pepper, seeded and diced

3 scallions, thinly sliced on the bias

¼ cup golden raisins

2 tablespoons fresh Italian parsley, minced

Place the couscous in a large bowl. In a small sauce pan bring the water, salt and butter to a boil, then  pour the mixture over the couscous and cover with plastic wrap. Let sit for 10 minutes.

In another bowl, add the orange juice, orange zest, currants, red pepper, and golden raisins, and let them soak until plump.

Uncover the couscous and add the raisin mixture and fluff it with a fork, making sure to blend out the lumps.

To serve, place on a large platter and garnish with the scallions and minced parsley.

 

WILD MUSHROOM PATE

Makes enough to fill a 3-cup mold or dish

5 tablespoons butter

½ cup chopped shallots or green onions (white part only)

1 ¼ pounds thickly sliced fresh wild or cultivated mushrooms

2 teaspoons finely chopped garlic

2 teaspoons curry powder, or to taste

½ teaspoon ground cumin

1 cup toasted cashews, preferably unsalted

2 tablespoons toasted nut oil, such as walnut oil, or olive oil

2 tablespoons finely chopped mixed herbs such as parsley, chives and/or basil

2 teaspoons finely grated lemon zest

Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

 

Heat the butter in a large saute pan over moderately high heat. Add the shallots, mushrooms, garlic, curry and cumin, and saute until mixture is just beginning to brown and all liquid has evaporated.

While mushrooms are cooking, add the cashews to a food processor and process until finely chopped. Add oil and continue to process to make a paste or butter. Add the mushroom mixture and process until smooth. Stir in the herbs and zest and season  with salt and pepper. Place in a 3-cup mold or other ceramic dish. Can be stored, covered, in the refrigerator for up to 3 days. Allow to return to room temperature before serving.

 

Raves for Bottega Ristorante

How do I love Bottega Ristorante? Well, I need both hands to count the ways.

For starters, this three-year-old Michael Chiarello restaurant, in the heart of the Napa Valley hamlet of Yountville, is a totally captivating scene. The rooms are stylish, with lots of space, high ceilings, flattering lighting and a bustling open kitchen. From the instant you step inside the door, there’s an energy and joy that’s palpable. The staff is lively, attractive and adroit; Chiarello himself seems to be everywhere, meeting and greeting his guests; and the sophisticated, well-dressed crowd knows how to have a great time.

Then there’s Bottega’s food – it’s fabulous. There’s simply no other word to describe the single potato dough raviolo I enjoyed recently. The delicate pasta package was filled with spinach and ricotta cheese and topped with an organic, soft-cooked egg that mingled its vivid yolk with a brown butter sauce flecked with fresh sage. The perfect package was showered with fresh black truffles.

Fabulous would also describe the unique caramelle pasta that was filled with tiny dice of caramelized butternut squash and Bosc pears, and finished with brown butter, pecorino cheese and deep-fried sage leaves. The final flurry of poppy seeds and crushed Amaretti was fascinating. (The caramelle pasta shape was a new one to me; it’s a small, homemade tube pasta that gets twisted on each end and looks like a piece of salt water taffy.)

Our shared appetizers were also something to rave about: a perfect bite-size specimen of sushi-quality   tuna teamed with one paper-thin slice of crisped garlic and one fragrant basil leaf; and heavenly burrata with walnut pesto bruschetta, peppercress and a truffle vinaigrette infused with orange essence.

Brussels sprouts are the darling of wine country menus this season. We ate them at Bouchon in Yountville (with smoky bacon lardons); at Grace’s Table in Napa, where they were creamed with bacon and potatoes; and at Cindy’s Backstreet Kitchen in St. Helena where a simple salt-pepper-butter version paired well with seared chicken breast.

But the shaved, caramelized sprouts at Bottega ended up stealing the show in a stylish salad (pictured here) that also included toasted Marcona almonds, wisps of prosciutto, citrus segments and an aged balsamic vinaigrette.

Bottega’s wine list is heavy on local, small-production wines which you’ll rarely see anyplace outside of the wine country. (There’s also an admirable roster of Italian wines but I can’t pass up a great wine made locally for a great wine that’s been schlepped 6,000 or more miles.)

And Bottega’s service is nothing short of superlative. Our server was a charming, professional young guy with joie de vivre to spare and no shortage of opinions. Another server (who joked that he was the oldest guy in the place) was equally endearing, appearing out of nowhere when my sister’s Black Pepper Bucatini alla Carbonara arrived at the table. He swooped in and picked up her knife and fork, eagerly tossing the hot noodles, broccolini and crisp guaciale with the barely cooked egg on top. “You don’t want the egg to cool before it’s mixed with the pasta,” was his basic message, delivered with a joy that was contagious.

Though we loved everything about our dining experience, the icing on the cake was just that --- icing on the cake. Or, more accurately, creme anglaise on the cake. Chef Chiarello graciously surprised us with the house signature dessert -- a luscious chocolate souffle cake, with molten chocolate center, hazelnut creme anglaise and candied hazelnut brittle -- to celebrate my mother’s 89th birthday. (The dessert requires 20 minutes to cook...plan ahead.)

Located in the atmospheric Marketplace 1870, a development of eateries and shops in a 140-year-old winery estate, Bottega Ristorante offers great options for an after-dinner walk. Stroll the V Estates or browse the windows in Yountville before heading home to bed.

Lemon Meringue Pie Re-visited....at The Ivy Inn

Some desserts have really good PR machines. The chocolate lava cake, also known as molten chocolate cake, flourless chocolate cake and chocolate fondant cake, has been the hands-down darling of the past couple of decades. Diners can’t get enough of the stuff, even when it’s a mediocre rendition (sometimes a prepared, frozen product!) that’s coming out of the kitchen.

Then there’s lemon meringue pie. Not an ounce of drama, no cachet, no sensationalist articles in newspaper and magazine food pages. But the simple, glossy British-American classic has been pleasing its fans since the 19^th century.

Of course, my personal favorite is the one my mother made every year for my birthday (who said it had to be a birthday “cake?”) Hers was the condensed milk variety, a pale, smooth and creamy filling topped with fluffy egg white peaks bronzed in the oven.

But recently I found another version that I love, sorry Mother, just as much.  OK, OK. Almost as much.

That's the Lemon Meringue Ice Box Cake at the The Ivy Inn in Charlottesville, VA, where I dined a week ago with my husband and his college friends.

The elegant creation starts with a wafer-thin, buttery graham cracker crust and moves onward and upward with tangy, zest-infused lemon curd and caramel cream layers. On top, an ethereal cap of toasted meringue, along with barely-there pieces of candied lemon zest and coarse organic sugar. On the side, a delicate lemon lace cookie. And it's all framed by a fresh, fragrant lemon-berry coulis.

The combination of tastes and textures is awesome…which is why my husband and I went back to the Inn for a second dinner two nights later.  Professional food critics aren’t supposed to do that….with only three nights in Charlottesville, I should have dined in three different restaurants.

But the lemon meringue wonder, by pastry chef Jon Thornburg, lured me back to the Inn just as effectively as mythology’s Sirens seduced sailors to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island.

And the fact that I had also flipped over chef-owner Angelo Vangilopoulos’ Puree of Butternut Squash
Soup on the first night made the repeat visit an easy call. (Yes, I ate the soup, swirled with scallion cream and dotted with smoked bacon bits and glazed, spiced pecans, on the second visit, too!)

Both dishes were in perfect sync with the Inn’s gracious, homey Virginia-horse-country vibe ---
sophisticated but understated. The original property – a multi-building estate – was built shortly after a fire destroyed the original building in 1815. Since then it has changed hands several times, including years of stewardship by the University of Virginia, whose “grounds” are a mile away. (The property was once called “Faulkner House” after William Faulkner, who was a distinguished University “Writer in Residence.”)

Since 1973 the quaint cottage surrounded by overgrown gardens, has been The Ivy Inn restaurant. (This photo is from the blog HarvestThymeHerbFarm.) In 1995 it was purchased by Vangelopoulos, who graduated from the Culinary Institute of American (CIA) in Hyde Park, NY, and trained at  Washington, D.C.’s Galileo restaurant and Cilantro’s in Del Mar, CA.Today he runs the restaurant with his wife, Farrell.

The rest of the menu, which changes frequently and features products from the central Virginia area, is as enticing as the dishes that hooked me. Consider Polyface Farms Slow Cooked Chicken with cloud-like gnocchi, local Andouille sausage and wild mushrooms;  Pumpkin-Seed Crusted Red Drum Fillet with couscous, avocado, lime and Carolina shrimp; Homemade Pumpkin Ravioli with crispy leeks, pumpkinseeds and fresh sage; Sticky English Toffee Pudding…then make a detour to this captivating academic town and check out The Ivy Inn.

(2244 Old Ivy Road, Charlottesville, VA; 434-977-1222. Appetizers $6-$12; entrees, $22-$36. Lemon Meringue Ice Box Cake, $8.)

 

THREE-PEAT: Cocktails at FIG, Charleston, S.C.

When was the last time I found myself in a bar downing Manhattans three nights in a row? Like, ah, never! Much as I love a good drink, hanging out in bars and belting back hard liquor is not my normal M.O.

But, I guess there’s a time and a place for everything, and last week in Charleston S.C. with about 50 fellow members of the Association of Food Journalists was clearly that time and place.

We were in the picturesque coastal town for our annual conference, four days of seminars, speakers, business meetings, tastings, field trips and fabulous meals. Straight off the plane on Tuesday night I headed to FIG (Food is Good) with two West Coast colleagues. We all knew about chef Mike Lata (who won “Best Chef Southeast” at the 2010 James Beard Awards) and our mouths were watering for such Lata specialties as Carolina Shrimp Escabeche and Tomato Tarte Tatin.

But the cocktail menu turned out to be a serious speed-bump.

For starters there was the list of Proprietary Cocktails that included the Marfa Daisy (Espolon Blanco tequila, elderflower liqueur, aquavit, grapefruit juice and grapefruit bitters) that was the sassy super-model of margaritas; and the Greenthumb (Cathead Vodka, green Chartreuse, lime, mint, cucumber and celery bitters).

Then there was the Make-Your-Own Manhattan extravaganza featuring 15 bourbons (and a few ryes), eight types of sweet vermouth, and 13 types of bitters, mostly homemade. Feeling like a kid in a candy store, I poured over the lists, then picked Old Overholt Rye (new to me but Lata' favorite), Dolin Rouge Vermouth (another new friend), and Angostura orange bitters. Served straight up in an old-fashioned “champagne” glass it was a delicious swirl of sweet, smoke, herb and tang.

The third page featured riffs on the Negroni, a classic Italian aperitif of Campari, sweet vermouth and   gin that was invented in Florence in the early 1900s. Calling it the “short and perfect aperitivo,” the menu lists nine versions including the Rhubarb Negroni with Farmer’s Gin, Zucca Rabarbaro (syrup) and Dolin Rouge vermouth;  the Negroni Sbagliato with Campari, sweet vermouth and Prosecco; and the Hummingbird (Beefeater, Campari, elderflower, Nouilly Pratt and crushed ice). (This photo is from a cool Website called Cocktails in Charleston that seems proof positive that I am not the only one who has spent time tippling in this historic town.)

Reporters being reporters, word about FIG’s creative cocktails and lively bar scene spread fast among AFJ members, each of whom by definition is obsessed with finding delicious things to eat and drink. So it was that I found myself back at FIG for nightcaps the next two nights, with colleagues who were equally smitten by the talented mixologists.

I’m now a big fan of subbing Prosecco for the gin in a regular Negroni (the sparkling wine makes for a lighter aperitif with no bite); and injecting a bit of the USA in the Italian drink with a splash of Buffalo Trace Straight Kentucky Bourbon. 

I'm also intrigued by Basil Hayden's minty bourbon; Blanton's "Original Single-Barrel Bourbon;" and Elmer T. Lee, the guy who makes Buffalo Trace. I now know that most sweet vermouths sold in the U.S. are Torino-style, and that there are a whole lot of new ones, such as Cocchi and Carpano, that I need to try.

And, I'm about to jump on the bitters bandwagon. There's been a surge if interest in these alcoholic sidekicks that are flavored with herbal essences and have a bitter or bittersweet flavor.  Today, homemade or small-batch orange, cherry, rhubarb and Aztec chocolate bitters are giving the old-fashioned Angostura a run for its money.   

Oh, yeah. FIG’s food. Fabulous.

The tomato tarte tatin (left),  “salted” with tapenade and smoothed with fromage blanc, managed to taste like mid-summer even though the season is just about over. The escabeche featured plump, tender fresh white Carolina fresh shrimp with the usual marinated vegetables and the unusual addition of grated ginger. 

We also flipped over the cloud-like ricotta gnocchi with Bolognese sauce; the local triggerfish with roasted cauliflower and caper; and the Coddled Sea Island Farm Egg that, when pierced, quickly swirled itself into the accompanying red wine-braised mushrooms and celeriac cream. On the side was a dish of chewy, pea- and prosciutto-dotted farro from Anson Mills that was so good I ordered packages of the grain on-line as soon as I got back to San Diego.

Dinner and drinks at FIG was a perfect introduction to Charleston, a town with only 300,000 people but a whole lotta knock-your-socks-off restaurants.

 

Bin 941 in Vancouver, B.C. --- Worth A (Bike) Journey

As you may know from my earlier posts, flank steak pizza and bumbleberry pie kept me going on the two-day, 200-mile RSVP bike tour (Ride Seattle to Vancouver & Party). But the biggest treat of all was the dinner awaiting me on the other side of the finish line.

After celebrating with fellow riders in the garden courtyard of Coast Plaza Hotel in downtown Vancouver –- the “Party” included live music and icy Molson Canadian draft (no beer has ever tasted better!) ---my son Nicholas and I got back on our trusty steeds and biked to the Fairmont Hotel. I had stayed at this grande dame during a food writers’ conference about a decade ago and really liked it. This time, after being in the saddle for 2 days and overnighting in a stuffy subterranean room at a Bellingham Best Western, I LOVED it ---the spacious room, the huge window overlooking bustling Georgia Street, the elegant bathroom, enveloping bathrobe, and comfy bed.

After a long shower and a short nap, I was ready to meet Bin 941, a restaurant my kids have been raving about for years.

It lived up to all the hype…and then some.

Since Bin 941, officially dubbed a “Tapas Parlour” doesn’t take reservations, we settled in at the eatery’s bar and celebrated our accomplishment with gin and tonics and the Goat Cheese House-Dried Tomato Salsa appetizer. One taste of the tangy spread, scooped up with outtasite Navajo Fry Bread, and I knew this meal would end up on my Best of 2011 list. (Photo by Bonny Makarewicz for The New York Times.)

Once seated at our Lilliputian, bare wood table, we opted for  “British Columbia Coastal Mussels, Fresh Daily” that were swimming in a sea of spectacularly flavorful coconut milk, lemon zest and garam masala. (Just thinking about this dish again right now is making me crazy.) The mussels were succulent; the hunks of dunked grilled focaccia were lip-smacking good. Forget Seattle, hell, I’d bike from San Diego to Vancouver to eat this dish again.(Photo from ShermansFoodAdventures.com.)

Equally impressive were the “Original Tijuana Caesar” with luscious grilled crouton; and the Angus   Beef Short Rib that was so tender I thought it might fall apart even before I prodded it with my fork. Served with parsnip puree, mushroom-studded spinach salad and a smooth but spunky peppercorn Cabernet jus, this was a unique take on a ubiquitous dish.

Bin 941 is a weensy place, with no more than 7 or 8 tables along with a dozen or so bar stools. The “décor” is funky; the attitude friendly and no-fuss; the food, fabulous.  (Salad & Such average $8; all main Tapatisers are $17.) It’s best to visit with a small group…that way you can order a greater variety of dishes. It's also wise to visit with a fun-loving bunch since this place turns into party-central later in the evening.

We wanted to order more --- fresh Pacific halibut with wild mushroom risotto; crab cakes with burnt orange chipotle sauce; olive-crusted lamb sirloin with potato latke; golden beets with truffled honey glaze. But the portions were large, the flavors intense, so we called it quits, leaving a lot of reasons to visit Bin 941 again.

 

Bike and Bumbleberries --- A Winning Combination

Bumbling idiots, I know all about. But bumbleberries?

It was a new one on me when I came upon Bumbleberry Pie on a breakfast stop during the RSVP Bike Tour from Seattle to Vancouver. If you read my earlier post you’ll know how much I loved the strawberry-rhubarb pie at Snohomish Pie Company, a delicious milepost on the 112-mile first day of RSVP Bike (Ride Seattle to Vancouver & Party) that I did with my son last month. Seems that fruit pies are one of the top tourist attractions in this area.

After overnighting with the other 1,198 bikers at motels in the town of Bellingham, we headed out under bluebird skies to complete the nearly-200-mile ride to Vancouver.

Nicholas and I opted to skip the lame “continental breakfast” offered by our motel, setting our sights instead on the town of Lynden, some 20 miles away, where the highly touted Lynden Dutch Bakery awaited.

For about an hour and a half we pedaled through a broad valley dotted with dairy, raspberry, strawberry and blueberry farms. I was more than ready for breakfast by the time we rolled, uphill, into Lynden, a charming hamlet whose claim to fame is its Dutch-American community – one of the largest in the U.S.

Front Street, the main drag, was dotted with a few cheering residents and an official RSVP stop featuring snacks and drinks.  But the riders-in-the-know headed to the Lynden Dutch Bakery, where friendly women in traditional garb manned the overflowing pastry counter and seated guests for the all-you-can-eat buffet brunch that draws tourists from all over.

Having no desire to A. spend a lot of time indoors on a glorious day or B. schlepp extra pounds of bacon and scrambled eggs along on the ride, Nicholas and I bought slabs of pie in to-go containers, tucked them precariously into the pockets of our bike shirts and biked a mile further to the inviting Woods Coffee shop where we got excellent lattes to accompany our pie. (Photo of the Bakery's Bumbleberry Pie is from Yelp.)

I had opted for Bumbleberry Pie, largely because I had never heard of such a thing. Must be some special berry grown only in the Pacific Northwest I speculated as I gobbled the luscious blend of flaky pastry and fat, juicy berries swimming in shiny, lightly thickened juices.

Only when I sat down to write this post did I learn that bumbleberry is a Canadian term, widely used in the Pacific Northwest, meaning a mixture of fresh berries, usually blackberry, raspberry and strawberry, but sometimes blueberry and boysenberry too.  It’s the most popular pie at the Dutch Bakery, which I guess means that it’s the best…made from whatever’s really, really good out there in the fields and woods.

 

 

My, My, Pizza Pie

Before I did the 200-mile RSVP bike tour from Seattle to Vancouver, I thought of Bellingham, Washington as an old-time shipping port whose greatest claim to fame today is its proximity to Mount Baker (a ski resort that holds the world record for snowfall in a single season).

Now I think of it as a pretty waterfront community, a welcome sight for sore butts, and the home of some of the best pizza I’ve ever eaten.

OK, so maybe there’s a little bit of hyberbole there. In all honesty, Pizza Hut would have tasted damn good after 112 miles, with non-stop uphill from mile 91.6 to mile 101.9.  But, in fact, the pizza at La Fiamma Wood Fire Pizza in downtown Bellingham is really, really good.

We arrived at the homey, family-oriented eatery at about 7:30 pm and found all the tables, inside and out, packed, with a wait of about 40 minutes. My son, who had eaten there before (on the way home from Mount Baker!), said it was worth the wait, so we strolled the downtown streets and arrived back just as they were calling our name.

The folks at La Fiamma aren’t content to offer superlative crust cooked in a wood-fired oven. They also aim to please with a staggering 40 or so toppings, including some very inventive numbers. My half of our large pie was the Grecian Formula, with an “herbed white sauce,” fresh spinach, red bell peppers, tomatoes, Kalamata olives, feta and mozzarella, and “marinated and grilled flank steak.” It was delicious, a perfect combo of chunky veggies and satiny cheese, with the steak adding a subtle heft.

Nicholas’ half of the pie was piled with fragrant rosemary-roasted red potatoes, caramelized onions, sensational homemade fennel sausage, gorgonzola and mozzarella cheeses and a fancy squiggle of balsamic glaze. It wasn't the most beautiful pizza in the world (nor was it photographed by the most competent photographer), but it was a supremely satisfying pie that I'm still thinking about 2 weeks later.

 

 

 

Pie On The Fly

Two weeks ago today, I was rolling through the countryside of northern Washington and into the dazzling B.C. city of Vancouver along with 1,200 other cycling aficionados. We were part of the annual phenomenon known as “RSVP” -- Ride from Seattle to Vancouver & Party.

Sponsored by the Cascade Bicycle Club, the event sells out in the first few hours of on-line registration each January. Last Christmas my son gave me a membership to the Club and suggested we do the ride together this year. Oh, yeah. Did I mention that it’s a 200-mile route? Covered in two days? Or that the most I’ve ever ridden a bike in one day was 80 miles, and that one-and-only experience was a few weeks ago?

On August 5^th we joined a highly enthusiastic group in the University of Washington’s parking lot at 6 a.m. under a threatening, heavily overcast sky. Riding across the Start line was indescribably thrilling. In spite of some cold drizzle and a last-minute route detour that necessitated a one-mile climb smack at the beginning of the ride, the first couple hours were a piece of cake.

Then came the piece of pie. 

I had heard about the great bakeries along the route, and we encountered the first batch in the picturesque little town of Snohomish, 28.7 miles from the starting gate. Now, I don’t normally go for big slabs of pie before 9 in the morning, but the bumpy, well burnished pies lined up on counters and racks at the Snohomish Pie Company were too tempting to resist. The selection was awesome – fresh rhubarb and strawberry-rhubarb, peach, blueberry, and a lot of other berries native to this part of the world. I opted for strawberry-rhubarb and was blown away by the oodles of sweet tender fruit and the flaky, crisp-edged crust. We also appreciated the comfie seating in the spacious café, and the pleasant servers who seemed unfazed by dozens of wet bikers lined up for a sugar or caffeine jolt.

There’s no Website for Snohomish Pie Co. (though they do have a Facebook page). But you can check out Yelp.com (where I found these mouth-watering photos) or SnohomishCountyBlogGirl to read more about this detour-worthy spot.  You can learn more about the totally fabulous RSVP ride at Cascade.org.

By the way, I grew up hating rhubarb. During rhubarb season, my maternal grandparents, born and raised  in Nova Scotia, turned out handsome homemade rhubarb pies for every Sunday  dinner. Though I loved most of the veggies my Grandpa pulled from his little garden, I wouldn’t touch the rhubarb, or parsnips. Then, in 1981, my adored Nana died, and my cousin Wendy brought her own homemade strawberry-rhubarb pies to the house following the funeral service. Maybe it was out of respect to my grandmother…maybe it was being polite to my cousin….for some reason, I had a piece of that delicious pie and I’ve been a huge rhubarb fan ever since.

For the record, I still don’t like parsnips.